


Darkness Tamed

by Anonymous



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angbang is endgame, Captive Deities, Dark Fantasy, Deities, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy Tale Elements, Forced Pregnancy, Intrigue, M/M, Melkor has female genitals warning, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Sexual Slavery, gods of war and chaos being gods of war and chaos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Melkor has been sold as a slave to an Elf lord named Fëanor.  He remembers only what he is told to remember.  That is, until he meets Thû, a mysterious hitman with a hell of a lot of work on his hands—and a serious grudge.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

On the bed lounged a slight being who was eerily perfect. His inky black hair fell in ringlets past his knees and his skin was pale as snow and dusted with diamond powder. Royal blue eyes glinted with lust from where they sat in an almost effeminate face, while full red lips spread in a lazy smile. Claws made of ruby stroked a dusty pink nipple lazily where it was revealed from underneath a glittery black dress with slits up both legs past the hip. His right hand held a glass of sparkling plum wine. Every once in a while, he would raise the glass to his lips and take a drink. 

Next to the bed was a table on which sat a tray of sweets and a jar of honey. Beside the tray sat a pot of gold paint and a brush already coated in it. Next to that sat a similar pot, though this one was empty and had a spoon resting inside of it.

The being on the bed slipped his left hand in between his legs to pet his dripping pussy gently. He gathered a bit of slick and raised the hand to his lips to lick it off. It tasted both sweet and salty, a combination he had been very eager to test. 

This being’s name was Melkor, a young lord sold into slavery to pay off his family’s debt. Not that he really cared. He had always secretly enjoyed being used in such a way—a toy passed around for entertainment. 

He tasted his slick again, then grabbed the spoon from the empty pot and dipped it into his pussy, scooping out as much slick as possible and pouring it into the wine to taste them together.  _ Divine,  _ he thought lazily.  _ It tastes divine.  _

The sugar, salt, and sweet fruit mingled into a heavenly brew that made him nearly come right then. “Oh, gods,” he muttered. “We can’t have that, can we?” 

Someone knocked at the door. A servant answered it. Ah, good, his master. Lord Fëanor, a man recently estranged from his wife. He heard the Elf’s footsteps on the sweeping staircase and quickly arranged himself, sending the wrap dress flying into the closet and rearranging the objects near the bed. By the time Fëanor reached his room, he was dressed only in lingerie and dripping in jewels and sugar. Nothing looked disturbed even to the experienced eye. 

-

Fëanor opened the door. 

What lay before him was exactly what he had requested. Melkor wore a white lace thong and stockings of the same material held up by garters. The slave’s legs were spread (such a deliciously wanton thing he was), and his entire body was coated in sugar crystals. 

Fëanor smiled. Perfect, as always. “I’ll have you now, pet, and then tomorrow I am having a party. Twenty are coming—can you manage to make yourself accommodate that?” 

“Of course, master,” the slave murmured. 

“I’ll have the servants prep you, pet. It will take more than one to do it.” Melkor nodded. 

“Perfect. But now, only I will have you.” He traced a hand down Melkor’s stomach, feeling the shudder the action induced with relish. 

He hooked his fingers into the slave’s thong and slowly pulled it off, then threw it to the ground. He left the garters and stockings, however: it looked so unbelievably attractive when the legs were covered as was proper but the pussy was left spread open to the world. 

Fëanor smirked. Perfect. He casually dipped his index finger into the dripping hole and licked off the slick. Delicious—a new combination. Melkor remained still, as was expected. He was not allowed to move unless told to. Fëanor dipped another finger in, then another until his entire fist was being squeezed by the slave’s tight pussy. He wiggled his fingers, eliciting a breathy moan from Melkor as he began to thrust the digits into the being’s hole. 

Not even half a minute after starting this, he abruptly pulled out. The slave’s eyes widened and he whimpered, trying desperately not to writhe in disappointment. 

“Such a wanton whore. All you want is sex, all you want is to be filled and fucked into oblivion. A tasty little morsel meant only for this.” 

“Yess…” Melkor was barely capable of intelligent thought at this point, having slowly teased himself to this point over the course of the day. He wished he could have spread his legs wider, but the rules remained the same: no moving unless told to.

“Wider.” 

_ Thank the gods.  _ He spread his legs wider, letting the cool air of the room touch him more. Fëanor moved to sit between his legs. Slowly, Melkor’s master leaned down and lapped at his skin, licking the sugar from it. He continued to do this, purposely ignoring the sugar on Melkor’s sex, until there was none left and Melkor was sticky and trying desperately to stay still. 

Then finally,  _ finally, _ Fëanor relented, dipping his head down to feast on the slave’s quivering pussy. 

Shamelessly, Melkor moaned. Fëanor never stayed in one place long enough to bring him over the edge, licking and sucking at his lips and hole. Occasionally, he dipped his tongue inside Melkor’s plump folds to taste the mingled sugar and slick. Finally deciding on a place, Fëanor thrust his tongue into the slave’s cunt, savoring the heat and wetness. 

Once again, he drew back relatively quickly. This time, he sat up and ordered, “Undress me.” 

Eager to comply, Fëanor’s slave began to remove his master’s clothing, looking up at him with eyes full of lust and need. When the last of Fëanor’s garments touched the ground, he shoved Melkor back onto the bed. He turned to the dresser, smirking as he felt the slave’s eyes on his impressive erection. He pulled open a drawer and took out a dildo—a ridiculously large one at that. Melkor’s eyes went wide and he nearly drooled. 

“For your ass.” Fëanor’s words were expected, but nonetheless delicious. “I suppose it is useless to fill one without the other.” 

He climbed back onto the bed and knelt between Melkor’s spread legs. Lifting the slave’s legs, he spread his ass cheeks open to insert the dildo. Already Melkor’s ass was wet; it was essentially a second pussy and self-lubricated. The dildo slid in with a slick noise. Melkor’s eyes rolled; his tongue lolled out. Fëanor could feel himself grow harder at the unbelievably attractive sight. He pressed the button on the bottom of the dildo to start its violent vibration. Then, brutally, he shoved forward and thrust into the tight pussy bared before him. 

He kept a harsh pace as he took the slave, his cock pounding into Melkor’s dripping cunt. He could feel the hole twitching and clenching around him. 

“Come.” Melkor did so violently, squirting his juices onto Fëanor’s cock as Fëanor and the dildo fucked him. The shuddering heat and flood of wetness sent Fëanor over the edge with a grunt. Just as he came, the dildo’s sensor picked up Melkor’s asshole tightening intensely and squirted its own juices into the pleasure slave’s tight butt. 

Fëanor pulled out and watched Melkor’s pussy drip come and slick. Still not utterly spent, he turned the slave over, pulled him onto his lap, and smacked his ass hard. This caused Melkor to tighten his asshole, and the dildo to spurt into him again. 

Fëanor gave him ten slaps on each cheek as a warm up. Then he geared up for a proper spanking. Forty slaps, twenty on each cheek. Melkor’s plump ass reddened swiftly as he was spanked. He clenched his ass. The dildo spurted again and again as Fëanor hit him, and soon Melkor was gushing from both holes. His ass was scarlet from such a long spanking and he was happily receiving more slaps. His ass cheeks smacked together as his ass was hit. 

Then Fëanor stopped, observing his handiwork. The slave’s ass was red and soaked, and he was breathlessly begging for more. Fëanor obliged, delivering one last slap to each cheek before yanking the dildo out and setting it to constant coming. He shoved it into Melkor’s pussy, grabbed an identical one, set it to the same as the other, and shoved that one into Melkor’s well spanked ass. 

Uncaring of the slave’s whimpers, he went and sat in a chair across from the bed, watching as Melkor writhed and spilled come. 

  
  



	2. Eyes and Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Thû and Talion. Melkor has doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the awful porn that was last chapter. This one is mostly talking with some almost dry depictions of sex. 
> 
> Warnings: Discussions of slavery, rape, and memory loss. Also, implied male pregnancy.

Thû was not fond of high society parties. They always involved immortals on display (the higher class, the more naked immortal beings), and he was extremely uncomfortable with this heathenous behavior. Worse, this particular noble had an impressive collection of 20 immortals and apparently owned the most beautiful one in captivity. 

Inside, his eyes were first met with a man bending one of the slaves over a couch and fucking her in the ass brutally. The immortal’s pussy was dripping and her tongue was lolling out of her mouth.

Averting his eyes, Thû made his way towards Lord Fëanáro, the party’s host.  _ He’s the man who hired you. Watch him.  _

“Good evening,” he rasped. Fëanáro startled.

“Ah! Good evening. I hope you are enjoying the festivities.”

“I just arrived.” 

“Nonetheless. Oh, good, Vera, are they done with him yet?” The woman who had just appeared gave a stiff nod and left. 

“Him?”

“My prize slave.” 

“Lovely.” Thû let sarcasm drip from his voice.

“You aren’t fond of that, are you?” Fëanáro’s gaze was shrewd.  _ Be vigilant. _

“Nor slavery in general. That is not why you hired me.” 

“Correct. I need you to dispatch my father. He’s grown irritating.” 

“Very well. How?”

“Subtly. And within two weeks.” 

“I can do that. Oh look, your sacrilege.” 

“They’re immortals, not gods.” 

“Certainly.” The slave who had arrived was naked save for garters and stockings. He was stunning, to be certain. Fëanáro smirked when he noticed the assassin’s staring. “Come forward, Melkor. No need to be shy.” 

Melkor stepped forward gracefully. He smiled up at Fëanáro, who smiled back.

“Hump me.” An order. Thû stood stiffly, watching as the immortal rutted himself raw against his master’s calf, his ass pressed to the cold floor. “Good,” Fëanáro murmured, rubbing the immortal’s dark head affectionately. “Now, Thû, name your price.”

Thû eyed the slave. Useless unless coupling he was considered. An object to be touched and played with. Meant only for bearing children in an increasingly infertile population, for even sterile men’s seed took hold in them. Undying, they could bear hundreds of children. Powers locked away behind layer upon layer of control and lust…

_ “BELEKÔRÔZ!” Screams of fury, of betrayal, chaos reigning. Still Antakhankoi yelled, roaring through field after field of deperate battle and fearing for his beloved’s life… _

“Him. I will take him. No other price will be sufficient.” 

“I will not let go of my most prized possession so easily.” Fëanáro’s eyes burned holes into the assassin’s face. 

“Shall I tell your father of your plan? Shall you hire the only other decent assassin in the city, even though he will bed this one and take him anyway?” Thû snapped, fiery eyes blazing.  _ Control yourself. _

“Surely there is something—”

“That is the only thing I will take.” 

“But—”

“Only. Him.” 

Fëanáro looked suddenly worried. “Go,” he said to the slave, who got up instantly and left. He turned back to the stone-faced assassin. “I am afraid he is close to his heat.” 

“I can wait a little longer. Do not these heats only usually last three days?” 

“Correct.” He was telling the truth, but then, Thû was known for his uncanny ability to detect lies. No one with half a brain would lie to him. 

“Good. Then let him pass this heat in…whatever he gets out of this. I will return in four days. The news of your father’s death will come the day after I return.” 

“Fine. I will pay your price. But why are you so interested in him, may I ask?”

“I recall someone similar to him. Rather different in personality, but perhaps that is a given.” Thû’s eyes followed the slave as he made his way through the party. 

“Who is it you recall?” Fëanáro asked, raising an eyebrow.

“An old friend. He could kill someone one handed with a war hammer bigger than he was. He was, now that I think about it, surprisingly small. He vanished, oh, three years ago.” 

“Name?” Fëanáro leaned closer, clearly intrigued.

“Went by Bauglir.” 

“I never met him.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

Thû turned on his heel and stalked off. His great height coupled with his dark cloak made people give him a wide berth. Clearly, this was someone to be avoided.

-

The strange man wanted him. For what, Melkor was uncertain. What use could he be to someone so evidently uninterested in what he had to offer? 

He fingered his hair, suddenly wondering at the weight of it. Had it not been short, barely touching his waist? Had it not been tied back in braids and hidden by iron? Had it not been tangled and bloodied? But no, that made no sense. None whatsoever. He wasn’t made for battle. He had been created simply for the purpose he was fulfilling now. 

  
  


His heat was upon him. Within the next hour he would be carrying a child again.

Still, the darkest, most hidden part of him protested.  _ Disgraceful. You have disgraced yourself, Mighty Arising. What would  _ **_he_ ** _ think of you? _

Willfully, Melkor ignored the voice.  _ I am done with your foolishness!  _ he told himself sternly.  _ Stop trying to tell yourself you have something to do beyond this. You don’t. Besides, you want this.  _

_ Don’t you? _

The question resonated on his mind even as he drifted off to sleep, already certain he could feel the first stirrings of life within himself.

-

_ A walking mountain crowned in fire, roaring in that disgusting language. “AMAL LAT, BELEKÔRÔZ?”  _

_ “AKHA! AKHA, ANTAKHANKOI!” the one in chains screamed back. His clawed hands were outstretched desperately. “VOK-IZISH!”  _

_ The mountain evidently couldn’t hear him. It passed by, and the one in chains fell to his knees. He wept bitterly, shrieking at the sky in tongues no one understood.  _

Fëanáro woke with a start. Silly thing to think about, when it was thirty years past. Besides, the immortals with that level of power had long fled lest they be captured. 

Cowards. Some had openly accepted their new place, others had needed…convincing.

-

Tyelperinquar watched Talion worriedly. The Undead immortal had weakened since he returned. 

“Damnit.” Talion’s soft curse was a relief. 

“You’re all right!” 

“No, I’m in incredible pain,” Talion snapped. “I can’t die. You know that.” 

“If my father sees you—”

“He’ll think I’m mortal. Everyone does.” 

“Grandfather’s giving his prize slave away.” 

“Who, M—”

“Don’t say his name!” 

“Just M, then. Was I correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“The Eye has come, then.” Talion’s face was elated.

Tyelpë wasn’t sure why this was so wonderful, but Talion wasn’t known for good judgment. 

He sighed.  _ I have a bad feeling about this.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Melkor remember his past? What the fuck is Talion doing? Who is Thû and what is he up to? And why am I asking all these questions?
> 
> Find out next time on Darkness Tamed!


End file.
